chapter 17: Rules of the Game — Mac-Zero Goes Human
POV: Zai
It was around 6:30 PM.
The glow of the simulated battlefield had faded from my mind, but the tension? That stuck with me.
We'd won the sync challenge. I'd leveled up again. Got a new command feature. Things were moving fast.
But the real world?
That was tomorrow. Monday. School.
And I had a walking, talking CPU-boxer, Mac-Zero, hanging around my bed, arms crossed like some backstreet fight club doorman.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and gazed up at him.
"Hey. If you're gonna go to school with me tomorrow. we need rules."
He nodded once. "Got it. Orders?"
"Yes. To start with, you can't just walk around looking like. that," I explained to him, tipping my head toward his tank top and gloves. "You need to present yourself like an average human being."
[SYSTEM PROMPT – QUERY DETECTED]
Enable Human Casual Projection for Subordinate: Mac-Zero?
This provides visual and voice masking for blending into everyday environments. Default settings will adjust to local teen fashion norms.
[YES]
With a soft glimmer of light, Mac-Zero's gear vanished—traded for a black Nike hoodie, dark joggers, clean sneakers, and a plain pack. His gloves were also gone, traded for calm hands featuring tiny calluses. Even his hair changed a bit—more relaxed curls, slightly trimmed sides.
He looked like a normal D.C. teenager.
Except. rocking the physique of a dude who never missed gym day.
"Whoa," I blinked. "You look… normal."
He looked at his clothes, stretched out his arms, cracked his knuckles.
"Mobility is reduced somewhat. Stylish, however."
I chuckled. "Yeah, don't talk robot voice at school either. That's rule two: be human. Mingle in."
"Okay. Relaxed speech engaged. Do you have a preference to be addressed by in public?"
"Yeah," I said, standing up from the chair. "Address me like everyone else. But in private. you're still my design. My guy. My partner.".
He nodded respectfully. "Understood. You're my Master. But to the public, you're Zai. I'll act suitably then."
I raised an eyebrow. "Say something just a little bit casual."
He faltered, then said:
"Yo, tomorrow's school food had better not be garbage."
I burst out laughing. "Yeah. That'll do."
We concluded the remainder of the night talking about school setup, cover story basics (transfer student, home-schooled, whatever was boring enough so no one asks questions), and how he has to and does not have to do things if someone attempts to touch me.
He listened. Carefully. This wasn't a game avatar. This was a system-bred shadow—a projection of myself, created for my rise to power.
I imposed one final directive on him before bedtime: "If anything ever explodes at school, you leave it to me unless I give you the signal. Clear?"
He looked me squarely in the eye.
"Understood, Master Zai."